Finite Incantatem en
by NevemTeve
Summary: What first-year Neville thought when Harry, Ron and Hermione left to save the Stone, and he was lying petrified on the floor?


AN: This story is a translation from Hungarian; if your Hungarian is better than my English, please read the original instead (same title). I do apologise for my bad English, corrections are welcome (PM me).

**Finite Incantatem**

If there is one thing that I could call lucky in my current position, it is the fact that at least I can see the clock on the wall: an old and valuable piece, made by goblins in the 11th century, which the house-elves carefully clean every night, and once in a week they wind its spiral up.... Of course they do that only when there are no students or teachers around, for they don't want to disturb anyone, they prefer to be invisible...

It would be good if an elf should came, I'd simply ask them to set me free... well I'd not be able to do that, because I couldn't even open my mouth... So I'd simply _wait_ them to ask me if I want to be set free, then I would answer...

I mean, for I would not be able to answer, the elf would simply leave, silently commenting to themself that it wasn't the first student having no decency enough to answer a polite question...

But at least I can see the clock on the wall, so I know it has been ten minutes since Harry, Ron and Hermione left, leaving me lying on the floor... If I didn't know what the time was, I would feel hours have passed, and I might be on the right way to lose my mind... I mean it would be a bit pathetic to cry (not literally, of course, only in my mind) on the fact that I haven't been able to move _for ten minutes..._ it would be ridiculous, wouldn't it?

In fact I am not completely immobile, for example I'm breathing, my heart is beating, my blood is circulating... totally automatically... If I could blink as well, I would be quite satisfied... And now the minute hand moves again: it has been eleven minutes that I'm lying here, and I'm quite all right... I could even try to compute how much time has to go before seven in the morning (or seven thirty, at worst), when somebody finds me. Percy Weasley, for example, is quite an early riser; he might come down _before_ seven... Let's hope so.

Or the Trio complete their mission and return... Will they set me free? I would not do that; it would be too dangerous... Maybe I couldn't control my anger, and who knows what I would do!

Knowing myself, most likely I would hit _myself_ with a harmless, but spectacularly humiliating jinx, and yet they should help me...

Not a sublime thought, but I have accepted the fact long ago that someone who hardly has any magic, but is totally accident-prone (I'm speaking of myself, if it is not clear) that person should not have pride, never get peeved, and mainly should never look for the trouble, but if the trouble finds him, just shrug his shoulders, and accept it as the order of the things.

Sounds pathetic? Yes, it is pathetic... maybe... But there is something comforting in it, too; if, for example, Draco Malfoy finds me alone in an empty corridor, he usually tries out a jinx on me... not deadly, of course, not even dangerous... only _humiliating,_ just for fun...

If I thought myself _someone,_ someone important, someone having self-esteem, then most likely I would fight, protest, run to the teachers to complain, or I would join Moaning Myrtle in her bathroom to cry together; or perhaps in a really dark moment I would want to end everything with a desperate gesture.

No, stop here, I don't want to think about that... Instead I have come to terms with all these things. At least there is someone who would notice if I went missing: as days would pass, Malfoy would suddenly ask: 'Where is Longbottom? Gone missing? Then on whom I am supposed to practice the Leg-Locker Curse?

But now, it was something else. It was not Draco Malfoy who hexed me, it was Hermione Granger.

And that hurts. I would prefer if it had been Malfoy. I would not feel like I had been backstabbed.

Hermione has always been kind to me since the very first day. I don't if it is only pity, compassion, or she really thinks me as a friend of hers. Not a close friend, of course, like Ron and Hermione, but still a friend...

I myself have always thought her as a friend of mine... But I don't know what to think _now._

Will I be able to forgive what she has done to me? Naturally, I can _say_ that 'I forgive', but will I be able to feel that?

And speaking of forgiving, does she need my forgiveness? For Merlin's sake, when the Heroes set off to save the world from devastation (let's suppose that it was the case), are they supposed to stop, because _Neville Longbottom_ asks them to? No, in this case they have to do what they have to do; and I have to admit, no serious harm was done to me, except for my pride...

It was stupid from me to try and stop them, I understand that now... Of course I only had good intentions: to save them and the Gryffindor House from more punishment... I still don't know what that important mission is, but it has to be important otherwise Hermione would not have petrified me...

Would it be better, if I knew what the mission was? Would that help me to get rid of the self-pity? Maybe, if I have _asked_ them... but most likely it was an important secret, not something that an eleven-year-old child could understand.

Let alone help... If they told me, that is was not just another pity fight with Malfoy, but a _mission,_ what would I have said? Certainly that I want to go with them...

But what could I do on a world-saving mission? For example... well, I could die, for example.

Finally, we are at the matter! No more by-passes, this is the point: Harry Ron and Hermione knew that I couldn't help, I would only needlessly endanger my own life and perhaps theirs too, so they left me here...

Now that's what really hurts: that I cannot blame them, it is not their fault that I am almost a Squib, and a blunderer, and have no memory...

This recognition doesn't make me happy. _(Fifteen minutes have passed.)_

There is not a law saying I should be happy, I remind myself.

The minute-hand moves again, and if I'm guessing right they are on their way towards the deadly danger, and won't return for hours. Or ever.

Or at least not unharmed or not all of them or... And meanwhile I'm mulling over if 'I will be able to forgive'! Sweet Merlin, it would be really good if I pulled myself together, and tried grow up a bit!

What would I do if I could move? Of course, I would go after them... well, no, they've made it clear enough that they don't want me... Then I would go to find Dumbledore... or McGonagall...

That will lead to more punishment, sure, but what could I do, people's lives matter more than House Points... That's what I have to do... should do, if I could move. _(Eighteen minutes.)_

I remember Granddad telling me how to break the Petrificus Course: It requires nothing but the _Finite Incantatem!..._ Of course I could not understand how could I cast a spell if I were unable to move or even say anything, but Granddad explained: it only depends on the will-power... and it helps if I concentrate on something that makes me feel better, gives me force... the previous instances, for example, when I was able to break free from the Petrificus...

That doesn't exactly work for me, for I have never broken free from that course... or any other course, by the way; I have always waited until somebody found me and helped... Anyway, I shall try it.

'Finite Incantatem!'

'Finite Incantatem! Finite Incantatem! _Finite Incantatem!'_

Wait, of course it didn't work, I forgot to concentrate on the _happy thought._ So what it should be?

Ron, the youngest of the Weasley boys, might think of his family: any jealous of his brothers he is, and ashamed because of his parents' poverty, he would never think that he wanted to be in my shoes...

Hermione is going to be a Prefect after four and a half years, and after two more years Head Girl... Everyone knows that, teachers included, the only one who is not sure yet is Hermione herself. But if she is sincere to herself, she has to admit that she is the best between all of us, muggle-born or not. She has won more House-Points than anyone else... I daresay she has won more points than I have _lost,_ what is practically impossible!

And Harry? I know he is not happy because he has been made a celebrity (without his asking for it or even knowing it), and certainly not that he has lost his parents, and has to live with those terrible relations of his... True, he is the youngest Seeker of the century, which is really great... but his real _happy thought_ is not that, I guess, it is the fact that he has two loyal friends, Ron and Hermione, who follow him into the danger, risking their lives without doubts.

That's all very well, but what about _me?_ It's my 'happy thought' I should find, not that of someone else. Whatever it can be?

One thing is sure: it is not flying on a broom. By now, I have made an official record: no-one has ever got injured as many times as I have, during the flying lessons, within one term... Of course they aren't big and impressive injuries, no, those happen to other people like Harry, my injuries are jerks, sprains and clean breaks that are easy to fix. Whenever I enter the Hospital Wing, Madam Pomfrey doesn't even look up, she knows it's me, she recognises the noise of my steps.

It was my third injury's time (3rd October, last year) when I was offered that I could give up flying lessons if I felt it was hopeless to try any more.

I certainly felt so, but did _not_ give up this subject. On this reason I should have given up every subject, maybe except for Herbology.

So I haven't given up on flying, instead I've came to terms with the fact that I fall down from the broom every other time, I'm resting a bit on the ground, then I limp to the Hospital Wing, and if I'm lucky I reach my next class after being treated.

And now I'm able to fly three complete rounds around the castle; just like an average beginner after a week's practice.

It took me eight months.

But I have never given up. Neither flying, or Potions or anything else. I do not know where this stubbornness came from, but it is in me, that I am sure.

Maybe... maybe it is my happy thought that could help me? That I never give up? Even when it would be better to give up? When someone else would have bitterly abandoned it, I just shrug my shoulders and prepare for the next try...

Let's be honest: it _doesn't_ sound like something important or relevant idea... Still, it's quite suitable for someone who knows that he himself is not important or relevant either...

_'FINITE INCANTATEM!_'


End file.
